


Slow To Rise

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill for the following prompt from <a href="http://spnkink_meme.livejournal.com/">spnkink_meme</a>: Sam wakes up with morning wood that just won't go away. He slowly wakes Dean up with kisses and fingering, then pushes inside easily because Dean's still open and wet from their fucking from the previous night.<br/>They have sex, slow and easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow To Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: bottom!Dean, top!Sam, porn, light schmoop and a thin coating of background angst.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Author's Note: I do not own Supernatural or Sam and Dean. I am just using them for fun. I hope the original prompter enjoys the fill.  
> Beta: [yohkobennington](http://yohkobennington.livejournal.com/)

Sam wakes up to the hairs on the back of Dean’s head tickling his nose and the feeling of his dick dragging across the back of Dean’s thighs.

At first he thinks it might be a dream, but no, he’s awake and he’s sporting some pretty impressive morning wood considering the night of fucking he and Dean had.

Taking a deep breath, he inhales Dean and the lingering telltale reminders of sex.

The bed’s comfortable, Dean’s warm, and his dick seems to like the attention it is getting when Sam shifts and it presses more firmly into his brother’s thighs.  Sighing, he thinks maybe he should back off a bit.  His hard-on, however, isn’t on that train of thought.  It’s insistent, almost painfully so.  It gets to the point where Sam doesn’t even consciously roll his hips against Dean’s ass for more friction, his body just does it and he lets out a deep sigh.  Dean isn’t particularly a morning person and there is guilt over waking him up.

Sam overrides this when he realizes it is barely morning.  There is plenty of time to go back to sleep and wake up at a respectable hour.

Binding himself to the fact that Dean’s going to complain, Sam leans closer and presses several abbreviated kisses between Dean’s shoulder blades.  He travels upwards, along his brother’s neck and behind his ear, letting each kiss linger for longer.

Dean stirs slightly but he is still too blanketed by sleep to react any further. 

A wave of want rushes through Sam and he pulls Dean more firmly against his body, slotting their legs together.  The kisses start coming with lustful moans and his hips roll on their own accord.  Dean smells good, though Sam thinks others might disagree.  He doesn’t smell particularly pleasing, but the mix of dried sweat, heat, musk, and his biological make up that makes him smell like ‘Dean’ and ‘familiar’ and ‘safe’ is  always going to be perfect for Sam.

Sucking a wet kiss behind Dean’s ear so he can taste while appreciating everything in his brother’s makeup, Sam runs a hand down Dean’s body and curls it around his hip.  Even in sleep, Dean shifts and opens for Sam.  There is a part of Sam’s brain that thinks Dean would have put up more of a fight had he been awake but they both know it is all pretense.  Still holding onto unconsciousness, Sam realizes Dean’s body is simply reacting to what it wants and they don’t have to do the whole song and dance to get there.

Sam slips a hand down Dean’s spine, over the cleft in his ass and lets one fingers tease at the furled ring of muscle between his cheeks.

Unsurprisingly, Dean is still wet from the night before.  It makes it easy for Sam to push his way inside, finger making teasing curling motions the whole time.  Though Dean is still open and ready, his insides are no less responsive and they twitch around his finger.  Sam enjoys that fact so he spends some time drawing out each slide of his finger, moving softly and slowly, almost petting his insides.  He is so gentle that Dean doesn’t wake up, but his body seems to be getting on board with what is going on.  In sleep Dean arches his back so that his ass is all the more closer to Sam’s hand.

On the next slither of his finger, Sam adds another digit to the mix.  It slips in with a fraction of resistance, but this time Dean gets out a groan.

“Sammy?”  Dean’s voice is hoarse and gravely from sleep.  He cracks open and eye and tries to look up at Sam, but Sam is spooned so tightly behind him that he can’t get a good look at his brother.  It takes him a moment to realize Sam’s lips are pressing into his neck, his hair, the shell of his ear.  “Sammy, what the…”  The words are snuffed out when Sam curls his fingers inside Dean, drawing a lusty groan from the older man.

“Shh…”  Sam moves his fingers again, getting a repeat performance from Dean and his brother almost goes boneless.  He knows just how to do this, he’s known for years, but it still never gets old.  “Morning.”  The word is punctuated with a slow draw of his fingers, gently teasing Dean’s prostate.  He feels the combination of lube and slick inside him and finds it more arousing than anything.  Dean’s heat is stifling and now that he is awake, he’s even more reactive to each leisurely thrust of Sam’s fingers.

Dean doesn’t put up a fight.  He lets his head flop back down to the pillow and moans as Sam continues to find enjoyment in fingering him.  With the addition of a third finger, Sam gets another wrecked moan out of Dean and he can tell from the short rapid puffs of air Dean is letting out that his brother is enjoying the wakeup call.

There are words on the tip of Dean’s tongue but none of them get a vocalization because Sam’s fingers seem to knock them from his mouth every time.  They are careful and precise, getting Dean hard and sending shivers down his spine.  Eventually, Dean bucks his hips backwards and is rewarded with an awkward jab of Sam’s arousal against his thigh.  Giving a low throaty laugh, Dean presses back against it more purposefully.  “Careful Sammy, you could poke someone’s eye out with that.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind.”  Sam closes his eyes and rolls his hips, letting Dean press back against his dick.  He’s ridiculously hard; he’s surprised he has enough blood in his brain to think that.  With one last teasing curl and brush against Dean’s prostate with his fingers, Sam slowly withdraws them.  Dean makes a moan of protest.  It’s more of a whine really than a command to do something.  As much as Sam loves this hidden side of his brother, he doesn’t want to dwell there too long.  Stroking his length with one hand, he smears the buildup of precome across the head.  Dean’s loose enough but the added fluid will ease the initial glide.  With his one hand, he spreads Dean’s ass so as to better position his dick at the prepped entrance.

He doesn’t rush, as tempting as that sounds.  Instead, he pushes in rather slowly.  Last night was the time for rapid, needy movements.  This morning was about basking in them.

Letting Dean sink his weight backwards, he watches his brother’s body slowly engulf him.  It’s enough to coax a breathy moan from Sam’s mouth.  His dick twitches in appreciation of finally getting what it woke up searching for but Sam’s hands on Dean’s hips prevent either of them from thrusting home too quickly.

Eventually, Dean can’t take anymore of Sam in.  He’s full to the hilt and loving it based on the satisfied noises he keeps making in the back of his throat.  Sam was right; Dean’s still wet and slippery.  He feels amazingly hot, velvety and tight despite the drawn out finger service.  They both still their motions for several breaths until Dean rolls his hips.  The action sends little starts to dance in Sam’s vision.

“Fuck, Dean…”  Voice heavy with longing, Sam pulls his hips back in an unhurried withdrawal, head of his dick almost slipping from Dean’s body before he slips back in.  It’s good.  Lying on their sides, he is still pressed behind Dean and able to kiss him – a fact he takes advantage of.  Dean lets Sam hike his leg up, helping open Dean further so he can sink in deeper.

They keep it up.  Each thrust of Sam’s hip or push back of Dean’s is rhythmic and easy.  They both know where they want to go but there is no rush to get there.

Dean gets up on one elbow and throws Sam a look over his shoulder before his eyes hood and he loses himself to a moan.  “God, Sammy, that’s good.”

It’s an awkward stretch and morning breath be damned, but Sam gets his lips on Dean’s and kisses him through a drawn out ‘pull out – push in’ motion.

Dean shivers and tenses around Sam and Sam can tell Dean wants it bad.  He lets go of Dean’s hip so he can get his hand on Dean’s dripping length.  It’s flushed and sensitive, just like the rest of Dean’s body.  It does something to Sam’s gut, sends another intense rush of love through him, and Sam has to spend a minute admiring just how stirred up Dean looks.  The minute he fists Dean’s dick in time with the thrusting of his hips, Dean loses his ability to keep himself propped up anymore.  He falls to the bed, body rocking with the aftershocks of the way Sam punctuates each of his thrusts.

“Christ, Sam.  Come on.  Little more and I’m there.”  Dean moans and pants, hands clawing at nothing.

Sam feels the same way.  It’s always just a little more.  He needs a little more.  They need a little more.  He wishes they could live in their version of a little more because when they are giving that, it is more intense than anything else.  Sam rolls his hips, kisses the back of Dean’s neck and cements their bodies together with the perfect thrust.  He hits everything just right, strokes Dean’s dick just right, and comes with soft twitches and gasps of release.

It sets something off in Dean and he follows, rewarding Sam’s hand with a heavy splattering of come and a litany of pleasure sounds.  He curses but the words don’t sound harsh.  They sound like the skeleton of love and Sam feels exactly the same way.

The aftershocks of their orgasm are just as slow and drawn out as the actual act of sex.  Neither man moves but their breathing does find a way of falling in time with one another’s.  They both need to shower but Sam figures they had the same realization last night and neither of them died because they decided to stay in bed.

Dean makes the decision for them.  He rips the alarm clock from the wall and buries his head in the pillow.  “If you try to get me out of this bed before I’m good and ready, I’ll kill you.”  Despite the bite in his tone, Dean grabs Sam’s arm and hooks it around his waist.  “No more wakeup calls from you.”  The last statement is a whisper.  Sam knows he doesn’t mean it.  Dean knows he doesn’t mean it.  There is come coating both of them to reaffirm that fact.  Still, Dean likes his sleep, so the warning is clear.

Sam, however, is still buried inside of Dean.  His dick is satisfied for now but he’s not making any promise.  After all, when they wake up, it is still going to be morning.


End file.
